


under foot

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Caning, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Nipple Torture, Object Insertion, Objectification, Public Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 07:12:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7608709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arishok uses Isabela as human furniture. [kink meme fill]</p>
            </blockquote>





	under foot

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this kink meme prompt: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/13010.html?thread=56386514#t56386514
> 
> Please heed the warnings.

All things considered, Isabela knows she's made far worse decisions than this in the past. The time with the greasy sailor, the job she took for an Antivan dowager, and the bet with the more efficient worker in the Rose all stand out as particularly dubious choices but when the door to the hall swings open, it takes an extra effort to remind herself that her current predicament could be worse.

Mindless labour or a drugged stupor were both non-starters as far as she was concerned and so when a particularly creative reading of the Qun presented her with a third option, she leapt at it gladly.

In retrospect, spending a month as an 'object for the use of the Qun' was taken a lot more literally than she had anticipated.

Not talking had been the initial challenge, although that was soon solved by the qunari shoving as much of her dress in her mouth as possible until all she could do was whine around the gag. Not moving had presented the next obstacle but as it turned out, the judicious application of pressure made the slightest movement even less enjoyable than keeping still. Over the past three weeks, she'd served as a lamp stand, a bulletin board, a table, and a boot-rack, amongst others, but as the Arishok's feet settled on her back, she found herself wondering where a footstool would rank on her list of favorite positions.

"Arishok."

As carefully as possible, Isabela glances to the side. The Arishok's throne (and therefore the Arishok's footrest) are set at the end of the main hall, flanked on both sides by rows of qunari waiting to hear the judgment of their leader.

Even after weeks in their presence, Isabela still struggles to understand the language when the most recent petitioner bows to the Arishok and launches into an explanation of his case. However, it's easy enough to tune it out, listening only to the blunt syllables batted back and forth across her head as they talk.

They let her keep her hair, thankfully. It's pulled back in a messy bun, lanky and still sticky with grease from when she was used as a dining table two nights earlier, and she promises herself a long, hot bath when her thirty days of service are up.

There isn't much she can do about her appearance at present, naked and on all fours in front of dozens of qunari with mud from the Arishok's boots flaking off onto her back. Despite her vulnerability, they haven't fucked her once, preferring to use her ass and cunt as they do her mouth - as convenient receptacles for whatever object the Qun demands she carry.

Currently there's a plug filling her ass, with a hooked end holding a small bundle of notes, but her cunt is blessedly empty as she supports the weight of the Arishok's legs. Her nipples are a different matter -- pinched by metal clamps with weights hanging off the chain between them -- but she suspects that's as much to keep her still than for any greater purposes.

(She still isn't sure how aesthetics plays into this -- as good as she looks on all fours, the qunari never seem to look at her like a person, let alone someone with far more interesting skills than playing furniture.)

The Arishok makes some kind of declaration above her. His feet slip from her back, boots thumping on the floor, and Isabela closes her eyes at the rustle of paper. The plug inside her shifts when one of the Arishok's scribes adds another edict to the pile she carries and she bites her lip at the stretch of the plug against her hole. The ache in her nipples becomes sharper, the pressure becoming more torturous with every breath in, and she shifts position as subtly as she can.

Maker, she's wet.

She always knew she had a varied appetite as far as sex went but was honestly unprepared for just how much she responded to being stripped, humiliated and (quite literally) objectified in front of dozens of qunari. While she isn't convinced it's an experience she wants to repeat in her own time -- she generally prefers a less one-sided form of contact -- she can't decide whether it's made the past weeks more or less bearable.

"-qalaba."

Catching the end of the Arishok's grumble, Isabela straightens up a little. She's certain 'qalaba' means some kind of animal but she's heard it enough times now to know that he's referring to her (at least for nine more days).

When the word for 'correct' follows soon after, she squeezes her eyes shut tight.

The tap of the cane against her thighs is quick and firm, designed to adjust her position rather than simply to punish. The slap still stings and she curses the way her traitorous cunt clenches at the fresh rush of pain. When she gets out of here, she's going to be the one wielding the crop in all her relationships for at least a year.

Another strike of the cane lands on her other thigh and she spreads her legs wider, shifting her knees more firmly under her until the qunari is satisfied. The same process follows for her arms but she lowers her head with a sigh when she then feels the cane slide under her breasts.

The blows land quick and fast, a patter of pain against the underside of her breasts. The impact sets the weights swinging, tugging on the clamps afresh, and Isabela clenches around the plug in her ass as she tries not to whimper. The heat pooling between her thighs only builds at the renewed pain and the lingering pull on her nipples, and as the cane strikes continue, she can't think of anything but the qunari sliding his huge hand between her legs where it's so desperately needed. She could come on one finger alone at this point, cunt slick from painfully prolonged arousal, and she can't help but slump a little in defeat when the short, sharp tap of the cane ceases.

The Arishok murmurs something and Isabela jumps at the sudden thud of his feet on her back again. Her face burns hot with humiliation at her position, reduced to just a thing to be used, but her eyes fly open wide when the cane comes to rest against her cunt. She braces for the strikes that will tip her from enjoyment to agony but her lips part in surprise when the only contact is the slip of the thin length of the cane along her cunt. It moves over her clit in careless, broad pushes but she's wet enough and close enough that even that contact has her curling her hands into fists.

The Arishok's boots are heavier on her back as she arches, needy and shamelessly and willing to submit to this further degradation if it means she gets what she wants. The clamps on her sore breasts jingle, and she can feel the qunaris' eyes on her as she rolls her hips back into rub of the cane.

It seems too good to be true until she realises that coming naked on all fours while serving as a footstool in front of a hall of qunari could never be considered too good to be true.

The pressure builds, familiar and oh-so-close, and Isabela grinds down harder, careful not to let the Arishok's boots fall off her back as she chases her release. She's almost there, so near that she's tensing for the impact, when the cane is withdrawn in a heartbeat.

Before she can mount any kind of protest, the cane swings up once, hard, against her clit and Isabela comes.

It's surprisingly strong, a blinding rush of sensation that leaves her panting, and tightening helplessly around the plug filling her ass. Her arms and legs tremble but don't give way -- all these weeks of being furniture have their uses -- and when she opens her eyes to stare down at the floor, she can feel sweat trickling down her bare spine.

The Arishok chuckles above her but is surprisingly easy to ignore now that she's got something out of this arrangement besides relentless humiliation. He says something in qunlat and when the next pair of qunari step forward for judgment, Isabela relaxes as much as she can. Her cunt feels even wetter now, making her shiver as the cold air creeps between her thighs, but she frowns when the cane suddenly taps against the bottom of her chin.

It doesn't take a translator to work out the action required and her cheeks heat when she opens her mouth to take it. It sits between her teeth like a bone held by a dog and when she tastes herself on the cane, Isabela honestly can't decide if this is actually the worst choice she ever made or the best.


End file.
